Just One Taste
by Leeloo Jinn
Summary: Someone preternatural is hunting The Game. Someone who wants a taste of him...Characters: TripleOC


**Just One Taste**

**By: Leeloo Jinn**

**Published: 10/07/2003**

**Genre: Supernatural/Semi-Horror**

**Rating: PG-13 - for sexual innuendo/situations **

**Summary: Someone preternatural is hunting The Game. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters of the WWE. I am just borrowing. Leila belongs to me however. **

**I do not claim to be an expert on the subject of vampires, but I have tried to keep this as close to Vampire the Masquerade role playing guidelines as possible. Any mix ups, mistakes or blunders are entirely mine. Any resemblance to any other author's fiction is unintentional. This story is purely for entertainment purposes only.**

I silently wait in the shadows of the parking lot, waiting for him. I pull my coat closer around my body out of habit as the wind picks up. There is a hint of autumn to the air. It is the smell of dead leaves and crisp cold nights under the gasoline and exhaust fumes of the semi-trucks and the oil-stains on the pavement. The rumble of the cars on the highway can be heard across the parking lot and over the wall. Overhead is the low roar of an airplane coming in to land at the airport on the other side of the highway.

I have been watching this man for six months at least. I found myself drawn to him, to his prowess and voracious appetite for dominance. It all started with the television, which still holds a fascination for me after all this time. The lengths that technology has progressed to with all the computers, automobiles, cell phones and high definition televisions never ceases to amaze me, but I digress. I have watched him on that "idiot-box" as I've heard it referred to, and live when he comes to town.

The time that has gone by seems much shorter than six months. The old adage is true; time flies when you grow older. I stopped at age 30 and that was over three hundred years ago. To be over three hundred years is a feat these days. Most don't last past their first few years and sometimes weeks. They pine for the past, for being human again. I suppose it depends on ones lot in life. Mine had improved however, and I have very little reason to complain. And I have very little reason to rush into what I've been contemplating ever since I saw this man.

There is time.

I have time and I have wealth, all though I rarely speak of it. Money is a completely disgusting topic and I avoid talking about it at all costs, if you'll pardon the pun.

Where are my manners? I've forgotten to introduce myself. I am Leila. My last name is unimportant; who I am, even less. My past doesn't matter. All that matters is the here and now. All that matters is this man. I suppose one could say I'm obsessed. Perhaps, but who wouldn't be? This man is perfect.

I close my eyes to picture him. I can see the muscles coiling and tensing beneath warm, tanned skin, the long dark blonde hair that frames his face and those eyes. One could lose themselves in their intensity.

He's tall, striking and has the personality of a complete bastard. He is callous and predatory. He lusts after power and is not afraid to use anyone or anything to gain an advantage. The one thing he cares about is remaining at the top. Those around him are just stepping stones. He is not the servant, but the served.

He is perfect.

He is mine.

I smile to myself as I watch people collect around the fenced in area of the parking lot, hoping to catch a glimpse of their favorite wrestler. I slip farther back into the shadows, making myself unnoticeable to the cops and security people milling around. And I wait. He'll come out. He always waits until the crowd has dissipated before leaving in his long black limo.

After what seems an eternity (and I say that with sarcasm), he finally exits the arena. Under the fumes I can smell him; the scent of his cologne and underneath that, the fainter scent that is unashamedly masculine. It makes me quiver in eagerness. As he climbs into the limo, I hear his two counterparts talking about going to a club. My age has not affected my hearing. In fact, it has improved it.

So it's a night of wine and women then. One of them tells the driver where to go before getting in and I make note of the place. I have been there before. I watch the limo pull away and I slip off into the darkness. I have time.

Time to take care of my own urges before I continue with him.

I find one in a back alleyway, not far from the nightclub I am heading to; another runaway. As I approach her, she stumbles back. Her fear is palpable, intoxicating. My nose twitches at the scent of her sweat. My tongue darts out and slides across my lips in excitement. I can almost feel the warmth of her blood in my mouth. She trips and falls as I reach for her. As I pull her to me, her scream dies and I sink my sharp teeth into her.

This is what makes us legend and myth. This is what makes us demons to some and angels to others.

The warm red liquid slides into my mouth and down my throat. I feel it traverse through my veins, warming my own body. The flavor is almost sweet and blessedly wonderful. It has been too long since I had a human that tasted like this.

I can only imagine what he will taste like.

She becomes limp in my arms. Gently I disengage my mouth from her skin and stop drinking before her heart stops beating. Better to let her die on her own. Carefully I lick the puncture wounds, sealing them up and my canines revert back to normal. I chuckle as I imagine a coroner trying to figure out how she died. Let them guess. I place her where she won't be easily found and resume my little mission

As I enter the club, my ears are assailed by the pounding beat of the music; the heavy bass underscoring the higher notes of instruments, all electronic. As I push through the press of bodies, I can smell the sweat and sexual tension found on the dance floor. The lights flash a profusion of colors in time to the music. Slowly and methodically, I make my way around the place and discover that he's retired to a back section with his cohorts and some female companionship.

No matter. I can wait. I situate myself at the bar and order a half glass of red wine. Slowly I sip it, savoring the taste. It is an excellent ending to my little nibble out in the alley earlier. Unfortunately, I'll have to purge my stomach before leaving; one of the drawbacks to being the creature that I am.

As I turn my eyes to watch him, one of his lady friends climbs up onto his lap and toys with his hair. He throws back his head and laughs. Her mouth touches the soft skin of his exposed neck. A growl issues from my throat at this sight, but I quickly calm myself. That pleasure will soon be mine.

I finish my wine and turn to ask the bartender for another. Before the words are out of my mouth, a voice speaks up beside me.

"Bartender, I'll have another round and throw in what ever this lovely lady is drinking as well."

I look at the person next to me. It's the youngest one of his male companions. His dark eyes flash as he takes in my appearance. I feel his eyes slide over my tight black pants and boots, up to my red shirt and long black jacket and to my face, taking in my pale skin, dark hair and brown eyes.

I smile at him. "Thank you for the drink," I say.

He nods and smiles back. "My name is Randy. And you are...?"

"Leila," I supply as the bartender sets another glass of wine in front of me.

"Well Leila, we're having ourselves a little party over here. Would you like to join us?"

A prime opportunity to get closer to the one I've been following. But to do so, would alert him to my presence. And I didn't want to do that.

I glance from Randy to the little party and smile again. "It looks like you have all the companionship you need. But thank you."

He shrugged his broad shoulders as he paid for the drinks and the waiter took them over. "Your loss," he said casually as he headed back to his women and friends.

"Not entirely," I whispered as I raised the glass of wine to my mouth.

There is time.

* * *

The three men are departing to their hotel. Randy has a woman in tow. The white haired man, whose name is Ric, and my victim are speaking to each other in low voices. I step away from the bar and fall in behind them as they pass me. I trail them out of the club at a discreet distance and watch as the limo pulls up. The driver gets out and opens the rear door for the little group. They get in and leave. I wait until the car passes around the corner and out of sight before heading to the hotel. 

I pause in another unlit alley and vanish from sight. Not an easy thing to accomplish at times, but after years of practice, I managed to master it quite well. I pass unobtrusively through the streets to the hotel, into lobby and up to his floor. I laugh to myself as I silently follow a young couple down the hallway and wonder what they would think if they knew what sort of creature was behind them. I stop at his door and press my ear against it. The rustling sounds inside tell me he is preparing for bed. I shiver as I think of that body with no clothing covering it up.

I softly knock on the door. There is a sound of something being knocked over and a muffled curse. The lock clicks and the door swings open. His head appears at the edge of the door.

"Who is it?" he asks in that husky voice.

When no one answers, he shrugs and shuts the door. I wait for a minute or so and then knock again. I distinctly hear him swear as he swings the door open again, wider this time. He actually takes two steps into the hallway and I use the opportunity to slip inside his room.

I seat myself in one of the chairs and watch as he shuts the door. He shakes his head as sits down on the bed and takes up the remote for the television. He spends the next half hour flipping through channels in an attempt to find something worth watching. He finally settles on a shoot-them-up and blow-them-to-hell action movie starring a man about as large as himself.

I amuse myself by watching him. He is clad in nothing but a pair of navy blue shorts. His hair is down and softly brushes his shoulders. My eyes travel over his muscled chest and arms and pause at his thighs. Despite my snack earlier, I can feel the bloodlust begin. Oh how I would love to take a bite of those thighs.

There is a vein located on the inside of each thigh; the saphenous vein I believe it's called. I have imbibed from there before and it is a tempting thought to drink from him there tonight, but that vein is deeper than the artery in the neck and takes a little more skill to penetrate. It would not do to have him wake to find me between his legs, sucking on the tender skin, but then again, perhaps he _would_ enjoy it.

My gaze travels back up to his neck to the spot where his female friend had kissed him earlier. I take in the soft, tanned skin and my tongue creeps out to touch my lips in anticipation as I continue to stare at that particular spot.

After a while, his eyes slowly begin to close. His muscles spasm and the movement jerks him awake long enough to turn the television off and the light. My eyes adjust to the dimness of the room. I can see him lying on top of the blankets and he's removing his shorts. If I had a heart that still worked, it would be beating with lust. He flings the clothing onto the floor and settles down for sleep. I gaze on him and for the first time in a long time, I wished that I were mortal again. Just for one night.

It is such a shame that I cannot indulge in sex anymore.

A glance at the illuminated numbers on the clock informs me that I've been staring at him for a good two hours. By now he is deep into sleep and the lightest touch wouldn't cause him to stir. I stand up, shed my invisibility and make my way over to his bed. As I look down at him I think to myself that it's such a shame I will not Embrace him. He would make an exceptional neonate I suppose, but as will all neonates, he would be competition for food and power. All I want is one taste of him.

Just one taste.

I lean over him and I can smell him again. His own unique scent underneath the clean perfume of soap. My bloodlust becomes stronger and my canines extend as my mouth comes closer to his neck. The warmth of his skin taunts me. I gently sink my teeth into his velvety flesh and immediately a rush of almost orgasmic pleasure comes over me as the coppery liquid seeps into my mouth and my knees tremble at the taste.

Sweet.

Powerful.

Strength.

Life.

Perfect.

I do not want to stop, but I know that I have to. With reluctance, I disengage my mouth from him and sensuously lick the puncture wounds closed with my tongue. He softly moans as my tongue withdraws but his sleep is not disturbed.

I stand beside him and watch as he rolls onto his side, facing me. A few strands of his honey gold hair fell across his face. I reached down and gently brushed them aside. He doesn't stir again.

"Goodnight my Hunter," I whisper softly.

Again I become invisible and quietly let myself out of his room. I leave the hotel and hurry home in the brief time before dawn. As I prepare myself for sleep, my thoughts linger on him. A smile appears on my lips as I think of the act that took place. An act that he will never remember, except in his dreams perhaps. A memory that will remain with me for the rest of my unnatural life. The steel shutters descended over the windows, encasing the room in darkness as I lay myself on my bed. A soft sigh escapes me as my dwindling consciousness remains on him.

My Hunter.

Perfect.

**FIN**


End file.
